


Spottedleaf’s choice

by Queen_Clem



Category: Warriors - Erin Hunter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-02
Updated: 2020-11-02
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:14:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27344149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Queen_Clem/pseuds/Queen_Clem
Summary: Spottedleafs addition to my Miniseries surroundings “A Small Flame”. I don’t suggest reading if you have not read that fanfiction, as literally nothing here will make sense.Now, to those who have read A Small Flame:Ya know ya wanna
Comments: 3
Kudos: 33





	Spottedleaf’s choice

No one knew she stood among the crowd, they never did. She stood beside old friends and clanmates, unseen and unheard.

They murmured words but Spottedleaf didn’t hear them. Her focus rested solely on the tiny she-cat that padded from camp at Tigerclaws side.

She’d really mucked up everything.

“Not you alone.” It was Silverstream, a queen that was both young and new to Starclan. She, like Spottedleaf, seemed to be members of a very small group within Starclan that still had hope for Firepool.

It was no surprise that Silverstream cared for the fate of Firepools soul. After all, despite her cruelty, the molly had fulfilled Silverstreams final wish and kept Riverclan from separating her family.

Besides, she had no paw in Thunderclans issues.

Hopekit and Wishkit, among other fallen Shadowclan kits, also rallied for the medicine cat. They disapproved of Bluestar as leader after Cinderblaze, though they agreed that Tigerclaw was a less than ideal replacement.

The only other adult in the group seemed, to Spottedleafs curiosity, to be Pinestar. She knew that Tigerclaw was his son and that Firepool played a large role in what would become of him but Pinestar had shown a fierce defense of even Spottedleaf when she had first arrived.

He, like Firepool, seemed to think Starclan was unfit to make or influence decisions regarding the lives of the living. When she’d asked, though, he’d only stared at her with haunted eyes and mewed she was not alone.

A surprising addition to their little group of hope had been Lynxkit, the kit who had been murdered by Firepool at the tender age of four moons old after having been crushed by her mother during a nap.

The wounds she’d had were horrific and had no cure. The kit had suffered for hours before Firepool, then Firepaw, had made the decision to put her out of her misery.

Spottedleaf had been the most surprised, she had assumed Lynxkit would hate Firepool for the crime and wish her downfall more than even Lionheart.

The tiny tortoiseshell had only looked at her with coldly glittering eyes and mewed that Firepool had been nothing more than an apprentice trying her best. That it was not her fault Lynxkits life had become little more than a test.

The words had stabbed Spottedleaf deeper than Clawfaces fangs.

After that, Spottedleaf tended to avoid the little spirit at every chance. It wasn’t hard, seeing as Starclan was so vast.

She’d made a bad decision that night, she knew, but she had wanted to know if her plan was working.

In life, Spottedleaf had understood very little about why Starclan had ordered such a cruel task of her, one she never wanted to commit.

Even now, in death, with the sheer horror of the future that may come looming over her, she was still glad she’d never raised claw to Firepool.

When she’d first arrived for judgement, many a cat had called for her exile from Starclan. She’d failed them, her plan had failed them, they’d said.

Spottedleaf had said nothing at first. She had defied them, they had never truly approved of her alternative to murder.

However, at last she demanded justice for herself. She wanted answers, she wanted to know why they had demanded so much of her.

They’d watched through cruel, sparkling, eyes as she’d gained the knowledge.

Bloody, endless, battles flashed behind her eyes. Mothers grasping their starved or battle torn kits in torment, shivering apprentices staring an ever-growing army down across a battlefield stained with old blood.

At the head of the army stood two cats, silhouetted by the setting sun. One tall and brawny, his amber eyes alight with the thrill of war.

The other was small, little more than a wisp of a cat beside her companion. Her small stature did nothing to hide the stark blankness in her eye. 

That in itself had shown the darkness that she held, when she could look at those who she knew were to die on her command with nothing but a cold disinterest.

Spottedleaf had screamed for the vision to end before the battle began.

Starclan had been granted with the vision when Bluestar had declared they were to keep Firekit and had panicked, doing everything, absolutely everything, within their power to prevent it.

The snippets they’d exposed her to were a mercy in comparison.

Still, Spottedleaf was hard-pressed to say it had been the right thing to do. Everything they had done seems to have tipped the balance within Firepool towards that version.

But Spottedleaf had hope. She’d seen glimmers of mercy within her apprentice and deep down, she knew Firepool simply wanted something to serve, to make great.

If Starclan had done right by her, then maybe it would’ve been them.

If Spottedleaf had done right by her, it may have been her clan. The clan she now abandoned.

“Don’t look back.”

The words were a familiar song to her. She knew them as well as she now knew each star that glittered in her tortoiseshell fur.

It was the first rule Featherwhisker had ever taught her and the first rule she had taught Firepool in turn. 

Don’t look back. Not at the cats who have died, not at the mistakes you’ve made, not at the pieces of you that were left behind with your choices.

It would only hinder her mind, make it difficult to serve her clan to the best of her abilities. It made it difficult to reach the potential Starclan held for her.

But, she was dead. There were no more herbs to find, no more coughs to treat, no more clanmates relying on her.

Spottedleaf looked back.

She remembered the tiny kit Bluestar had carried into camp. The poor scrap was still wet and even then, Spottedleaf could see she had a foul temper.

With a pang, she remembered the dream she’d been sent that night, demanding she feed the kit Deathberries when she came to meet her the next moon.

She also remembered how the berries had rolled beneath her paw as the curious kit had tottled about in her den. The feeling of her paw twitching restlessly to roll them forward before she found herself putting them away.

Not a moon later, she’d received another dream. Spottedleaf had ignored it. For the first time in her life, she’d ignored a dream from Starclan. Surely it had to have been a mistake. Not Starclan, the merciful and gratious warrior ancestors she’d served her whole life.

Their code specifically stated they were not to kill kits, why would they order her too!?

But then another dream and another and another. Each growing more insistent, more frantic as Firekit began to grow.

Spottedleaf was no fool. She’d been present in the kits life since she was a moon old, she knew how badly she dreamed of becoming a great warrior.

Her and Ravenkit had played in her den each morning, waiting on their herbs. Though they were both weak, Ravenkit was still stronger but he always allowed her to win.

Spottedleaf felt a pang in her chest. She’d fought long and hard to try and get the tom to Starclan but ultimately they abandoned him as he abandoned his clan.

Shaking her head, she padded towards the sky, making her way back to Starclan.

The stars glowed brightly, swirling together as she began her way home.

Firepool had nearly died once, as a kit. No one but Spottedleaf knew, because it had been her warning alone.

A final dream had hit her, of her attacking and killing Firepool outright. Awaking with clammy fur, Spottedleaf had immediately went to the moonstone.

There, she’d dreamed of a hawk with glowing white eyes snatching the kit away, her howls of terror growing ever fainter.

She’d understood then. Either she would do it or they would. 

But there had to be another way!

It wasn’t right. The future was a fickle thing. If they changed Firepools path, perhaps it would change the whole vision.

She’d pleaded her case to her ancestors, arguing it wasn’t fair to kill a kit on chance when there may be another way. 

Now Spottedleaf knew it was only the vote of Leopardfoot who had tipped the odds in her favor even though Starclan could not see a clear vision of what the choice would entail.

She’d inquired the molly about it once, only to find out it had never been about what was best for Firepool or Thunderclan. 

Leopardfoot had voted for Firepools life only to try and save her sons soul from the Dark Forest.

Spottedleaf still struggled with the choice the day of the test. She remembered with a bitter taste how she had lied to Bluestar, telling her Starclan had determined both kits too weak and that one would train beneath her.

Even then, she had known Firepool would try to blame her fate on another. Spottedleaf had thought it best that anger be towards Ravenpaw, than the ancestors she would serve.

If only she had known sooner!

There had been no hesitation then. She’d been so sure, as she hide the dock in that cursed bundle, that she was doing the right thing for everyone. Her clanmates, Starclan, even Firepool.

Now though, with all her knowledge, Spottedleaf wasn’t sure. Firepool had shown cruelty but would that vision come to pass? If it did, was it Starclans meddling that caused it? If they had left everything alone, would it have worked out? Or was Firepool doomed to fall no matter the path she had walked?

As she made her was to the former medicine cats area of Starclan, ignoring the yowls of joy and celebrations around her, Spottedleaf supposed it didn’t matter if she regretted who she gave her loyalty to in life.

She’d made her choice, long ago.


End file.
